


Deviation

by dysonrules



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-16
Updated: 2009-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:44:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysonrules/pseuds/dysonrules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin's road trip takes a dangerous turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deviation

**Deviation**

Arthur moved and immediately wished he hadn't. Pain lanced through his left leg and seemed to travel from there up his spine to his head.

 _What the hell_?

He opened his eyes and it was more difficult than it should have been. He felt strange and his eyes met only darkness. He moved his hand and something odd scraped across the back of his hand. It felt rough, like...

Arthur frowned and tried to focus. Why was he so cold? A frost-laden breeze fluttered his hair and he blinked, wondering why it was so hard to think. He lifted his other hand and it slid over bare skin. Icy cold bare skin.

He reached for it, panic spiking through him as he remembered.

 _Merlin_!

 _Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god_.

The car. They were in the car. They had been driving and the roads were half ice, and Merlin had been joking about strapping skis to the car tyres. They had laughed…

And then it was no longer funny, because the car was sliding in earnest and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. There was a sickening crunch and the crash barrier parted, sending them over the edge. The car began to tip… and then it all became a blur of colour before… nothing.

We crashed, Arthur thought. He gripped Merlin's arm more tightly, petrified by the coldness of it. He refused to follow that thought to its logical conclusion and focussed instead on their surroundings. They were still in the car, which had landed on its side. Arthur was in the passenger seat, although his face rested on the grass.

Merlin dangled from the driver's seat, cold as ice.

Wind gusted into Arthur's face again, breaking his stasis. It was freezing. God knew how long they had been unconscious. His fingers were frigid as forced himself to let go of Merlin and fumble for his seatbelt clasp.

He couldn't remember how it unhooked, since the car was Merlin's. Was it a push button or pull-clasp? His mind seemed sluggish and his fingers kept slipping, as if they were made of clay instead of flesh. Over and over the bit of metal and plastic defeated him until he was nearly sobbing with frustration.

At last the belt released and Arthur shifted carefully. Each movement was agony and he feared he might have broken something, but his first concern was Merlin, who literally dangled from the seat. Arthur could barely see him in the dim light.

 _Clear night_ , he thought crazily. _Half moon? Oh god, please. Gibbous moon? What does that even mean, gibbous? Please be alive, Merlin. Please_.

Arthur got to his knees, wincing when something cut into his knee. Glass or metal, he wasn't sure; he ignored it and reached up to unbuckle Merlin's seatbelt. Either he remembered how it worked, or luck was simply with him, because it parted immediately, sending Merlin sprawling in a heap.

Arthur belatedly hoped Merlin hadn't landed on his head and broken his neck. _If he was alive at all_. He cursed himself for the horrifying thought and clutched at Merlin's shirt, tearing it open to press both cold hands against Merlin's throat, desperate to find a pulse.

His teeth were clattering and his breath sobbed in and out of his chest. He clamped his jaw shut and held his breath, trying to calm down. Merlin. He had to make sure Merlin was all right. His hands stilled and he channelled all of his attention to his hands, praying for a heartbeat.

He felt nothing.

His breath exploded from his lungs and he clenched his hands convulsively.

"Merlin!" he shouted. "Merlin!"

He shook Merlin by the neck, sobbing. _You can't be dead, you can't be dead, you can't be—_

Merlin coughed.

Arthur let go only to clutch at Merlin's shoulders and drag him upward into an embrace. "Oh god." He began to shiver uncontrollably. "Oh god, Merlin."

Merlin coughed again and moaned. Arthur suddenly realized he could be badly injured. Internal injuries. And it was cold, so damnably cold he was surprised they hadn't both died of exposure already. His teeth clattered again.

"C…C…Merlin. We need to g…g…get out." Once he said the words, he knew they were true. They needed to get somewhere warm. They needed to get help.

 _Our phones_ , he thought suddenly. _Where are our phones_? He cast his mind back, trying to remember. It hadn't been that cold when they had left. They had tossed their coats into the back seat, pulling their phones and mp3 players out first. What had they done with them? Arthur remembered chucking his phone into the tiny compartment beneath the stereo. Merlin had done the same.

With the car on its side, the compartment would be… there. Arthur shifted Merlin in his arms and used one hand to grope for the dash. His fingers felt over buttons and knobs until they dipped into an opening. An empty opening. _Fuck_. The phones had fallen out.

Arthur scanned the darkness, hoping to locate a gleam of metal that would indicate one of their cell phones. He saw nothing. Damn it.

Rather than waste time searching, he set Merlin's limp form back down. "I'm going to take a look around, Merlin. See where we are. I'll be right back."

The front windscreen was a splintered mess. One corner hung free of the frame. Arthur pushed on it several times until it fell away completely, crashing to the ground in one large piece. With one more worried glance at Merlin, he climbed free of the car and stood up.

They were in a ravine. Arthur turned until he located the path the car had taken. It did not look like that much of a climb, really. But dragging Merlin? It would take him forever. He should probably leave him and try to flag down a motorist, but it had been late when they had hit the ice. They had seen few cars. Chances were, there would be even fewer, now. And he hated to leave Merlin.

He looked around frantically and spotted something that had to be manmade. The smooth line of it caught and edge of moonlight. Was it a roof? Arthur stood on his tiptoes and winced when his leg protested. The fact that he was standing on it told him it wasn't broken, at any rate.

It was a roof. Hopefully, it would be someone's house. He shivered and blew on his hands. Standing in the open breeze was decidedly colder than being inside the shelter of the smashed car.

He quickly crawled back through the demolished windscreen, making a quick decision. He fumbled in the rear compartment until his hands located their coats. Thank god those hadn't disappeared the way their phones had. It was possible the phones had flown out during the roll, tossed out the windows. They could be anywhere.

"Merlin," he said, gripping his shoulders. "Merlin, you have to wake up."

There was no response. Rather than panicking and checking for a pulse again, Arthur set to levering his friend out of the car. Merlin would be all right. He had to be all right. He would just have to hope there were no spinal injuries, or severe head injuries, or blood clots, or…

Gritting his teeth, Arthur heaved Merlin out of the car and then spent a few minutes forcing Merlin's limp body into a coat—Arthur's coat. He remembered how Merlin had laughed and laughed at it, calling him a "fashionista" and a "supermodel wannabe" and "hairy strumpet" until Arthur had threatened to smother him with the coat and bury him in a shallow grave.

He winced now, recalling the shallow grave comment. "No shallow grave for you, Merlin. No grave for you at all, if I have anything to say about it."

To his immense relief, Merlin mumbled and tried to bat him away, giving Arthur welcome proof of his vitality. Arthur propped him against the frame of the car and shrugged into Merlin's completely inadequate hoodie, mentally damning the boy for dressing so improperly for the freezing weather.

As if to confirm Arthur's thoughts, several snowflakes drifted past.

"Great," he said with a sigh. "Just great."

With that, he bent down, heaved Merlin upright, and half-dragged, half-carried the semi-conscious lad toward the promising gleam of roofline.

It seemed to take forever to reach it. Arthur was glad he had worn Merlin's pathetic hoodie, because he was dripping with sweat and panting like a steam engine. His breath puffed in the cold air. Merlin had nearly revived, but spent most of his lucid moments fighting Arthur and mumbling incoherently.

"Don't make me leave you here, Merlin," Arthur muttered and shifted Merlin on his back—which had ended up being the easiest place to carry him. Arthur was hunched over like an old man, shuffling along the dry stream bed and shoving through brambles and winter-bare bushes, carrying Merlin like an oversized backpack.

He was beyond relieved to discover the manmade gleam really was a roof, the metal roof of some sort of small cabin. Arthur had wishes for an actual house, or at least an outbuilding near a house, but he supposed it was better than spending the night in the demolished car.

The door was even open, wonder of wonders. He paused a moment to bless country people and their innocent, trusting ways before shoving the door open and stepping inside.

The dim light from the doorway was just enough to display a single bed and a rustic table. Arthur dropped Merlin onto the bed with a sigh of relief. Ancient springs creaked in protest. Arthur turned to the table, noticing an oil lamp with a glass chimney rested thereon. He fumbled at the glass and bemoaned, for the first time in his life, the fact that he was not a smoker. He would have had a lighter to hand, then.

To his amazement, he spotted a flat square next to the oil lamp and picked it up—a book of matches. He flipped it open and tore off a cardboard match. His hands were shaking so badly it took him several tries to light it, but finally it flared to life and he touched it to the wick. He had never been so thankful for fire in his life.

It burned brightly. Rather than turning down the flame, Arthur glanced around the cabin. The first thing he spotted was the fireplace. Snatching up the oil lamp, he hurried over and knelt on the hearth. To his amazement, wood was already stacked and ready to be lit.

"Bless the anal of the world," he muttered, although usually that sort of person annoyed him immensely. He lit another match from the burning wick and touched it to the wadded paper beneath the stack of wood. It caught immediately.

Arthur set the lamp down and poked at the fire with a stick, casting worried glances toward Merlin, who lay unmoving. Now that there was light, Arthur could see a smear of blood on Merlin's forehead.

He turned his gaze back to the fire, feeling sick. What if Merlin had a head injury? Fuck, what if he _died_?

The thought sent him to his feet and he searched the cabin. A telephone, or even electricity, was too much to hope for, but he hoped to at least find some water. He found nothing, however, beyond a few rust-spotted cast iron pots, two chipped mugs, and a stack of plastic plates.

There was also a small cupboard with two tins of potted meat, a can of fruit, several packages of dried noodles, and a jar filled with teabags. At least they wouldn't starve. Arthur assumed there was a well or some sort of water source outside. Now that he was beginning to warm up, he was loath to return to the cold outdoors.

Instead, he got up and went to see to Merlin. The blood on his head was alarming and he realized that he would have to go outside, anyway, and locate water. He had to clean up Merlin's wounds and make sure they were not…

Without thinking about it, he went outside, taking the lamp with him. After blundering around outside the cabin, he located a pile of stones that hid a well. A beat-up plastic bucket sat next to it and an ancient metal and wood crank device worked well enough to drag up another bucket filled with water. Arthur dumped it into the plastic bucket and toted it back inside.

The water was extremely cold, so Arthur poured half the bucket's contents into one of the cast iron pots and set it near the flames. He shrugged out of Merlin's hoodie and used one of the sleeves, soaked in the cold water, to dab at the blood on Merlin's face.

He was relieved when it washed away. From the look of it, he was afraid Merlin had a cloven skull. Instead, a small gash on his forehead welled fresh blood when Arthur dabbed at it. Fearing there might be more wounds beneath Merlin's thick hair, Arthur pushed his hands into, searching for injuries. Merlin's hair was incredibly soft.

He had just finished rubbing his fingers over the back of Merlin's neck when he realized Merlin's dark eyes were open and watching him.

"Arthur?" he asked.

Arthur was glad he was already sitting down; his legs might not have held him. Merlin was awake, and he recognized Arthur.

"Merlin," he whispered. "How are you?"

"Cold," Merlin said and then his teeth began to chatter. "So cold."

 _Shit_. Wasn't that a sign of shock? And shock could kill. Arthur knew that much from watching police dramas.

"Hang on, I'll warm you up." He scanned the room again, looking for blankets or rugs, but the place was barren of any sort of cloth. The mattress had no bedding. And Arthur's ridiculous fur coat was already wrapped around Merlin. The fire was heating the space nicely, but Merlin was still cold. Which must have meant that… that his body core temperature had dropped. Hadn't Arthur watched a survival show about that? Why hadn't he paid more attention to the telly?

"So tired," Merlin said and shut his eyes.

Arthur frowned. Wasn't there something about keeping shock victims awake? Regardless, he needed to warm Merlin up. The fire was warming the space, but it might take hours to penetrate Merlin's chilled skin. And his jeans were partially sodden from being dragged through patches of snow.

 _Skin_.

Arthur swallowed. Without thinking too hard about what he was doing, Arthur leaned down and unfastened Merlin's waistband. He removed Merlin's shoes and dragged off the wet jeans before setting them close to the fire. Next, he wrestled the coat away from Merlin, who protested vaguely.

He debated taking off Merlin's t-shirt and finally decided to leave it on. It wasn't wet and might provide a small layer of warmth. Merlin shivered without the coat and Arthur quickly stripped off his clothing, shirt included, and lay down next to Merlin.

He arranged the huge coat over them both, rather impressed that such a silly thing had turned out to be so useful. The faux fur was quite warm. Merlin, however, was still cold. His skin felt like ice.

Arthur turned him on his side and snuggled up against Merlin's back, wincing as Merlin's chilled buttocks and legs seemed to burn into his flesh. Arthur looped an arm around him and splayed his hand over Merlin's abdomen. It felt as cold as a slab of marble.

Arthur buried his face in Merlin's thick hair, pulling him closer, determined to warm him if it required leeching all the heat from his own body and sending it into Merlin's. His lips pressed into Merlin's cold neck and his hand stole upward, beneath Merlin's shirt, to rest over his heart; Arthur held his breath for long minutes until he felt a heartbeat.

It was there, and Merlin's chest rose and fell with each breath. Now that Arthur was quiet and unmoving, the sound was more evident. He relaxed with a sigh of relief. Now that his mind was not scrambling to do something, he found it travelling paths of anxiety that kept him from dozing.

What if he had lost Merlin? Hell, what if he _still_ lost Merlin? They weren't out of the woods, yet, and lack of visible wounds didn't mean anything. Merlin could be…

Arthur breathed in the scent of Merlin's hair and refused to think about it. His mind kept tracking back to all the good times they had had. Joking around on the set, listening to music, watching the telly, videotaping each other acting like fools…

He pressed his lips against the back of Merlin's neck, overcome with emotion. It was possible he cared more about Merlin than anyone else in his life. The thought was slightly terrifying.

Arthur awoke with a start and was somewhat surprised that he had fallen asleep. He was still wrapped tightly around Merlin, who was warm. His chest rose and fell evenly with each breath and Arthur took a brief moment to thank every deity on earth.

He noticed his face was cold—the portion that wasn't against the mattress or tucked into Merlin's dark hair. The fire must have dwindled or gone out.

Arthur carefully levered himself away from Merlin, who did not stir. Arthur hurried to the fireplace, wincing at the cold floor. He glanced out the tiny window to see it was still pitch dark. The fire was nearly all embers, with a tiny flame still eating at a charred bit of wood. He carefully fed it small twigs until it burned bright and yellow, and then he levered a number of larger pieces atop those. When it crackled high once more, he looked at his watch. 3:20 a.m.

He turned his attention to Merlin, who still had not moved. He debated putting his clothes back on and staying awake, but he was damned tired and Merlin was warm. And cuddly. Although he wouldn't admit to that last bit.

Arthur padded back to the bed and crawled carefully back under the fur coat before tucking himself around Merlin once more, shivering. He kept his hand on the outside of Merlin's shirt this time, realizing he might have a bit of explaining to do if Merlin awakened to find Arthur fondling him beneath his clothing.

Hell, he would have enough explaining to do just because he was wrapped around Merlin with next to nothing on. In fact, being wrapped around Merlin was a lot more pleasant than it should have been. His warmth seemed to burn into Arthur's chilled flesh and he burrowed a bit closer, returning his face to the familiar tangle of Merlin's hair.

He could get used to waking up like this, he realized. It should have been a disturbing thought, but instead it merely made his heart ache.

His heart nearly stopped completely when Merlin's hand moved to press over the backs of his fingers. "Arthur?" he asked.

 _Caught_! thought Arthur in a panic. "Yes," he replied in a tone that contained an alarming squeak.

"What… where are we?"

Arthur thought of and rejected several farfetched explanations, but finally settled on the truth. "We were in a car accident. How do you feel?" His lips brushed against Merlin's neck with every word, but he could not seem to force himself to pull away.

"Car accident," Merlin repeated softly. His fingers clenched over Arthur's. "Then… where are we?

"Random hut," Arthur replied. "We needed to get out of the cold."

Merlin's chest hitched beneath Arthur's hand. "You carried me."

Arthur snorted a laugh. "Well, dragged, more like. For a scrawny little git, you're awfully heavy."

Merlin did not react to his jibe, except to ask, "How far?"

"I did not check my pedometer, Merlin. I don't know; it doesn't matter. Are you warm enough?"

"Yes, I— You saved my life, didn't you?"

Arthur was about to brush it off, but the truth was that Merlin might have died out there in the cold. What if he had been driving alone? What if Arthur had not impulsively joined Merlin when he had decided to drive up and visit his gran? Merlin might have hit the same patch of ice, rolled the car, and ended up freezing to death without ever waking up.

Arthur's arm tightened and he swallowed hard. "I can never let you out of my sight again," he said firmly. His voice sounded rough to his own ears.

"Never again?" Merlin asked and amusement was evident in his tone. "Planning to join me in the shower, then?"

Unexpectedly, the thought of joining Merlin in the shower was far from amusing. An image of Merlin, naked, dripping with water and suds, hair wet, lips parted as he tipped his dark hair back into the spray—the vision seemed to explode in Arthur's mind, with immediate and alarming results.

"Oh fuck," he breathed as his cock thickened and grew, filling the space between Merlin's arse cheeks as thought it belonged there.

Merlin gasped.

"Oh god," Arthur said and immediately tried to pull away, hoping to flee and explain it as some ridiculous fluke, or the side effect of a head injury, even if he had to bludgeon himself with the fireplace poker to make it plausible.

Merlin's hand tightened, holding him in place even as he turned to face Arthur. His dark eyes were wide. "What brought that on?" he asked in a whisper.

"Head injury," Arthur babbled. "Insanity. Genetic predisposition—" He tugged at his arm, hoping to free it from Merlin's grip, but he held tight.

"Really? Not even a hint of attraction, then?" Merlin asked.

Arthur froze, staring at him. Merlin's teasing tone was usually reserved for… well, for times when he was flirting with Arthur, but he was always _joking_ when he did that. Wasn't he?

"What—? What are you saying?" Arthur whispered.

Merlin had lifted his other hand toward Arthur's cheek, but it fell away as shutters seemed to drop down over his eyes and his smile faded. He looked away and Arthur suspected a blush stained Merlin's cheeks, invisible in the flickering light from the fire.

"Nothing," Merlin muttered. "Forget it; you're right. Head injury and all."

He released Arthur's arm, but Arthur was no longer interested in escaping. "Wait. Are you saying if I did _this_ …?" Arthur screwed up his courage and reached out to touch Merlin's face before curving his hand around the back of Merlin's neck. He leaned forward until his lips were mere millimetres from Merlin's. Their breath mingled, coming in puffs more rapid than their minimal activity should have warranted. "If I did this…?"

Merlin captured Arthur's lips with something that sounded like a gasp of distress. Arthur's heart thumped wildly in his chest and his hand tightened on Merlin's neck as their lips slid together, created a tiny moment of suction, and pulled away.

Their eyes met for only an instant before their mouths locked together once more, greedily this time, as if they were both starving for one another. Arthur had never felt so completely out of control. God, how long had he wanted Merlin? How long had he wanted this and not even known it?

 _How long had Merlin wanted him_?

His hands were all over Merlin, leaving his neck to travel down over bare arms, touching his wrists and fingers, and then hipbones and ribs and… Arthur swallowed. He had touched Merlin's chest last night, rubbing a palm over his nipple with really acknowledging it, but now when his fingertips touched the hard nubs, Merlin made a guttural noise and pushed into his hand. Enchanted, Arthur rolled one between his thumb and forefinger, grinning when Merlin moaned against his lips.

"How could I not have known?" Arthur murmured, feeling a jolt when Merlin's hands slipped beneath the edge of his shirt to trace lightly over his hipbones.

"I asked myself that a time or two," Merlin admitted.

"Why didn't you ever—?" He broke off, unable to speak when Merlin's fingers pushed beneath the waistband of his pants. He went no further, merely traced slow circles over the edge of Arthur's pelvic bone, where the skin was smooth and sensitive—and so incredibly close to Arthur's cock. It had partially softened during his panic, but the onslaught of Merlin's kisses had sent it back to full staff, trembling for a touch.

"And risk a black eye? Or worse, risk ruining our friendship?" Merlin pulled back and his brow wrinkled as a frown pulled at the corners of his lips. "Will this?"

"Will this ruin our friendship?" Arthur asked, trying to think beyond the overwhelming need to touch Merlin and taste him and feel him. "I don't… I don't feel any different toward you. Just… _more_."

Merlin's eyes fluttered shut, but the tension around his mouth disappeared. "God, Arthur, I want to touch you," he said, and then he did. His fingers wrapped around Arthur's cock with a firm grip.

Arthur's fingers had dropped away from Merlin's chest and he allowed his hand to move lower. The backs of his knuckled grazed Merlin's cock—thankfully just as hard. Merlin moaned lightly and Arthur pushed his pants down to grasp it, registering the differences between them only in passing.

He stroked, marvelling at how the angle seemed so awkward—the familiar motions would be backward and require adjusting. His breathing hitched when he realized Merlin seemed to be having little trouble with the mechanics. Merlin's thumb brushed over the wet tip of his cock and he retaliated with the same movement, grinning at the response.

The fur coat, shaken free by their actions, rustled to the floor, leaving them open to each other's stares.

"Good," Arthur said, panting. "I don't want that… to get stained."

Merlin burst out laughing and the sound was delightful enough to send Arthur over the edge. "That coat is hideous," Merlin said in a breathy voice as Arthur's hot fluid spurted over his hand.

"It's a lovely coat," Arthur said and kissed him, barely able to think through the brilliance of the sensation.

"It's atro—" Merlin's disparaging remarks were silenced by Arthur's tongue. Arthur twisted his hand with a practiced movement and Merlin's prick immediately pulsed in Arthur's hand while his attempt at words turned into a muffled cry.

"Never mock the coat," Arthur warned in a stern tone.

Merlin sagged back against the mattress, looking completely relaxed and delicious. "I stand corrected he said primly with a smirk. Arthur leaned down and kissed him again before letting go his prick and wiping the back of his hand up and over Merlin's side.

Merlin broke the kiss with a laugh. "Prat!"

Arthur smiled, feeling happier than he had in ages. "There is water outside. You'll have to go and fetch it, this time."

Merlin sobered instantly and his eyes flew to the door. "Shit. The car…"

"Yeah, it's pretty totalled. We'll go search for the phones in the morning. Your gran is probably worried sick." Arthur frowned. "Maybe I should…"

"No." Merlin shook his head severely. "No. They'll be glad enough we're both alive. A few more hours won't matter."

Arthur sighed and moved forward to wrap Merlin in an embrace, thankful and amazed that what had already existed had not disappeared, it had merely _changed_.

"A few hours?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Merlin said.

"What shall we do with that much time on our hands?" Arthur asked in a purring tone.

"I'm sure we'll think of something."

(Author's note: This was originally written as Bradley/Colin RPS, but I think it works okay as Merlin AU. If you want to do a find/replace on the names, you can put it back to its original version. I think they are actually cuter in person than they are as their characters.)


End file.
